


Salvator Mundi

by orphan_account



Series: Encantado [2]
Category: Dong Bang Shin Ki
Genre: Alternate Universe, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Magic Realism, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Travels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-03
Updated: 2010-10-03
Packaged: 2017-10-12 11:04:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brazilian folklore tells of the encantados, dolphins with the ability to change into, and bewitch, humans. Three stories of four foreigners in Rio de Janeiro, and their encounters with an "enchanted one". Jaejoong would have played the pious pilgrim on the Ganges if that had been where Yunho wanted to go. But Yunho came here to be inspired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salvator Mundi

As Yunho leafs through his Portuguese phrasebook and tries once again to explain to the concierge desk at their hotel what it is he's after—and he's pretty sure by now he must be pronouncing the words wrong—he begins to suspect that those programs that promise you can learn a whole new language on your way to work are a scam, and Jaejoong should really try to get his money back when they get home.

That English he took in high school isn't helping much either, but it seems to be the only thing that's doing them any good at the moment.

The concierge nods seemingly in understanding, then makes a face, shakes her head, and shrugs. And he and Jaejoong have to put their heads together once again, and try to think of an angle they haven't already approached this from.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help overhearing. Do you need some help?"

Hearing Korean in this foreign place is like a breath of fresh air, and it wouldn't have mattered who it was coming from at the moment. But their savior happens to be a young man about their age, with a face Yunho simply knows at first glance is trustworthy.

"Thank god," Jaejoong is quick to say, with a relieved sigh, "yes _please_. You speak Portuguese?"

"What do you want to say?" the young man asks, and they explain their situation.

The request is effortlessly translated, and the concierge—with an "a-ha" look on her face, and doubtless just as grateful as they are to be spoken to in a language she understands—happily obliges, prattling on back to the young man in response. Yunho is so floored, it doesn't occur to him until their exchange is over that he might want to pay attention to any of it for future reference.

"She says there's a shuttle that comes to take people up to Corcovado," the stranger says. "The next one is at ten-thirty and you can wait for it in the lobby. They'll make an announcement when it gets here."

"Is that _all_ she said?" Jaejoong asks with a smirk, and Yunho's glad to see he wasn't the only one thinking it.

"She also said you could wait till tomorrow for the one that comes first thing in the morning, see it by sunrise."

"Is that what you'd recommend?" Yunho says.

The stranger smiles like he has some sort of inside information. "My opinion? You should stick to your original plan. It's going to rain tomorrow."

For a split second, Yunho is tempted to mention that the morning news said otherwise, but Jaejoong is already introducing them and he misses his chance.

"Xiah," the young man says, taking Jaejoong's hand.

"Are you here from Korea, too?"

Xiah knits his brows before deciding on: "Not exactly. But I had a good language teacher, if that's what you're thinking."

"Hey," Jaejoong says before Yunho can stop him, "why don't you come up with us? I don't know what we're going to do if you let us go up there by ourselves. As you can see, we're pretty hopeless on our own."

"That is, of course, unless there's somewhere else you need to be," Yunho says, praying Jaejoong will get the hint. He thought he made it clear before, that he wants to share the sights with Jaejoong alone.

No such luck. "Have you ever been up to see the Cristo Redentor?" Jaejoong asks, missing the hint completely.

"Once or twice."

"Good. Then you can show us all the stuff the tourists never see. I mean, if you're game, that is. What do you say? Our treat."

And just like that, it's decided.

* * *

Yunho's not sure what Jaejoong expects to get out of this trip. A self-proclaimed atheist, closer in reality to agnostic, and fair-weather non-denom Christian at best, if there's a connection he's trying to find at [](http:)Corcovado between himself and whatever higher power he believes in—or doesn't—Yunho doesn't know what it is.

For him, it's a little more straightforward.

He was raised a Catholic, a phrase that, when it comes up in conversation, often gets taken to mean he no longer counts himself as one. But that's far from the truth. He just doesn't go around advertising his faith. It kind of clashes with the life he's chosen for himself—at least in the eyes of others—and he's given up trying to explain his own identity to strangers and acquaintances whose business it's none of, and family he doesn't think he should have to.

These days, he skips mass more often than he goes, and he doesn't always wear his crucifix—Jaejoong wears enough crosses for the both of them, the garish filigreed thing he's chosen for their day trip being Exhibit A—but the suitcase Yunho packed for this trip is lined with paperback translations of Chesterton and Greene.

Yunho came here to be inspired.

About Jaejoong, he's not so sure, but there's a strong possibility he came just for Yunho. He would have bought and scoured the appropriate guidebooks and played the pious pilgrim on the Ganges, too, if that had been where Yunho wanted to go.

As if that alone would prove his seriousness.

They can see the monument long before they ever get there. In the bright sunlight, it first resembles a tall, pale crucifix, but soon the details come into relief. The outstretched arms. The fluted robe. The ubiquitous bearded face gazing down upon Rio de Janeiro. As Jaejoong snaps pictures with his SLR out the open shuttle window, Yunho can't help a niggling doubt, that once they get there it won't match up to what he was expecting, back when taking this trip was just idle talk back home in Korea.

Though if anyone asked him why he felt that way, he wouldn't be able to give a straight answer.

"So, I take it you two are Catholic?"

Yunho's attention is pulled back inside the shuttle bus, to see Xiah staring at him, a Buddha-like half smile on his lips; and for a moment, Yunho forgets he should say something.

Jaejoong does it for him, in between lenses. " _He_ is. I'm still undecided."

"Then this must be something of a big deal for you," Xiah says. His eyes still haven't left Yunho.

"It's . . . well, I guess you might call it a dream," Yunho decides on, "I've had for a while now. To come here and see this with my own eyes, to experience it with my own senses. . . . It's hard to describe."

And it is. All the reasons he gave Jaejoong when they were planning this trip, the thoroughly outlined arguments for why Rio, why Corcovado, seem to fall apart now that he's actually here. He wonders if Jaejoong can sense it, too, as he places the telephoto carefully back in the case that sits between them, clearing his throat.

But somehow, instead of leaving it at that, before long Yunho finds himself practically giving Xiah his life story, laying out his sources of inspiration from childhood to present, his own private doubts and triumphs of faith, as if somewhere in there is a truer answer to Xiah's unspoken question. He doesn't know how this young man he hardly knows managed to draw it all out of him, even details he's never thought to confide in Jaejoong.

Whose "we're here" shakes him as if out of a trance, leaving Yunho to wonder if he just imagined the forced tone of Jaejoong's enthusiasm.

38 meters feels smaller in person than Yunho had been expecting. Maybe it's the angle.

But he can't honestly say he's disappointed, either. Unlike some other monuments of faith, there is nothing about this one that strikes him as commercial, ostentatious or pretentious. Nothing forced. He stands at the base of the statue, beneath the all-embracing arms of Christ the Redeemer, all of Rio stretched out below him, the curve of the earth visible behind Sugarloaf Mountain across the bay, the emerald mountain peaks at his back, and he feels as if he were on top of the world.

He looks over at Jaejoong, lowering the camera to gaze around them at the tourists and the faithful sweating along with them in the noon sun, and is surprised to see something uncharacteristic in Jaejoong's sheepish smile. Something he's careful to keep in close check, something he doesn't want Yunho, or anyone else, to see. Something he regards as a weakness.

And that reminds Yunho precisely why it's Jaejoong he brought with him on this trip.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Jaejoong makes a sound in the back of his throat. "It's astounding," he says, careful to avoid meeting Yunho's eyes. "Truly."

"I know. To think someone could actually erect something this huge and this high up with the technology they had back then. The sheer amount of faith it must have taken just to accomplish _that_."

"And the amount of soapstone. But that's not what I meant. You know, everyone puts so much emphasis on the resurrection, on miracles and the virgin birth and saving their own souls, they don't stop to think about what _Jesus_ must have felt. But up here, you really get a sense of him looking down from the mountaintop, thinking, 'You mean I have to save all of this?' Talk about the impossible dream."

He probably hadn't meant it to be funny, but Yunho feels a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. That might be the most Christian thing he's ever heard Jaejoong say.

And he's a little jealous that he wasn't the one who thought of it first. The sense of grace he came here hoping to find, the empathy and the forgiveness that he used to pray for as a boy, that's a little much to be asking of a statue. Yet, it seems like Jaejoong, the non-believer, seems to be closer to finding it than he.

They wander the grounds, Xiah translating the placards and attempting relevant puns in Korean. Before they leave, they stop at the monument's chapel to Our Lady of Aparecida, but it's more for Yunho's sake than either of the others. Among the other pilgrims here from countries he can only guess at, he lights a votive to speed his thoughts in the right direction, while Jaejoong and Xiah wait outside.

Maybe it's just as well. The rituals he never thought twice about back home seem strangely empty to Yunho here, like he's trying too hard. It's enough to shame him when the thought pops into his head that at least it's cooler inside the chapel than outside. But the other two don't seem to mind the heat. He returns to them to find Jaejoong in a crouch on the pavement, egging Xiah on so he can get the perfect shot of the young man in midair. They must be bored.

Xiah launches himself off a low retaining wall, knees out and feet together underneath him like a frog as the shutter clicks. He catches himself after a brief stumble and a peal of laughter.

Which fades when he sees Yunho. Like he's been caught doing something sacrilegious by a priest.

But Yunho can't hold it against him. Xiah's abashed, breathless smile as he welcomes Yunho back, asks him how he liked the chapel, is innocent, angelic. It's Yunho, if anyone, who sins, for finding it so hard to turn away when Jaejoong is standing right beside him.

While they wait for the tram to take them back into town, Jaejoong steps away to find them some drinks. And that's when Xiah asks Yunho, "You're a couple, aren't you?"

Yunho had been worried he was staring a little too long, but he hadn't thought it would be Jaejoong he was caught watching. "Are we that obvious?"

"Only if you know what to look for."

"So, yes, in other words."

Xiah laughs, a loud and brassy guffaw that shows off a line of perfect, white teeth he makes no effort to cover up. "It's not that bad," he assures Yunho, leaning back in his seat. "It's just the energy between you two. It's pretty strong. You should consider yourself lucky."

Pretty strong, huh? Yunho thinks, and wonders which of them he's referring to.

* * *

Back in town, they find a place to eat and end up spending the afternoon hours just talking. Jaejoong and Yunho mostly, but Xiah interrupts with a question now and then to keep the flow going.

It doesn't escape Yunho how the young man hangs on Jaejoong's every word, but he can't exactly blame him. Jaejoong is captivating by nature—after all, he captured Yunho and hasn't let him get away—and must be all the more so to someone who doesn't speak their language natively, and for whom Jaejoong still feels a need to coyly cover his most sincere bursts of laughter. If Yunho didn't know Jaejoong better, he would think the two of them were openly flirting in front of him.

They stay late. They're still there by the time the sun goes down and the cantina's karaoke machine comes on. And Jaejoong—well lubricated, by this time, by a couple three or four Skols—gets up to do a number.

It doesn't take long before he, with a little help from Yunho, manages to cajole Xiah into taking the mic, and after that, the place just isn't the same.

Yunho's heard gifted singers—hell, he's spent the better part of the last two years with Jaejoong, who, if he can stand, can rock out or croon trot with the best of them—but he hasn't heard anything like Xiah. No one has, by the reactions of the other patrons around them. Few are eager to follow his act, and no one minds hearing him sing another number, and another. Xiah sings in Portuguese, sultry, languid, liquid bossa nova, the occasional English song they recognize, and, God, Yunho thinks, what he wouldn't pay to hear Xiah sing something in Korean. Something whose words, and not just emotions, he can understand.

Not that it would have mattered if Xiah were singing in Swahili. His voice, his expressions—his whole presence is mesmerizing. It's passionate, down to the very last note. It's otherworldly. And that's not a word Yunho would toss about indiscriminately.

No, if Xiah told them he was a visitor from another planet, or an angel come down to earth, Yunho wouldn't bat an eye. He'd just say, well, at least now it makes sense.

He's not the only one who appreciates it, either. Beneath the cover of the table, Jaejoong touches his thigh. More than just a touch: his hand slides around and down to trace up Yunho's inseam. It sends a shiver down Yunho's spine, and a warmth through his veins that all the alcohol could not. When he looks over, he sees Jaejoong watching Xiah, rapt, his lower lip caught by his teeth.

Yunho knows what he's thinking.

But then, Jaejoong's body language has never been exactly subtle.

"We should invite him back with us tonight," he leans over to say halfway through one of Xiah's numbers.

"You think that's a good idea? You don't think it's too soon, that we'll scare him off?"

"I want him, Yunho." Jaejoong says it like Xiah is a sleek, sexy supercar in a show room window and he just has to get behind the wheel. And maybe that's not far off the mark. He's close enough Yunho can feel his breath hot and ragged on his ear, and Jaejoong doesn't care who might be watching. It's dark in the canteen, and everyone's too focused on Xiah to notice them anyway. "I want to watch you with him. I want you to watch me with him. And don't tell me you're not interested," he drawls, making Yunho's breath hitch. "I see the way you look at him. You've been staring at him all day."

Yunho should have known that wouldn't get past Jaejoong. "Okay, maybe I have. A little. But it doesn't mean anything."

"Hey, I know that. I'm not complaining. I certainly can't blame you for looking. Not at _that_."

As if to prove his point, a couple of patrons closer to the stage whoop and holler something to Xiah that goes over Jaejoong and Yunho's heads, but elicits from Xiah a burst of raucous laughter, right into the mic, the first time they can remember that he's messed up yet. The brilliance of his grin, of his natural charm as he tries to recover his place in the song, is blinding. It shouldn't make Yunho want screw him, but it does.

Jaejoong laughs and shakes his head. "All I'm saying," he says to Yunho, "is that we seem to be on the same page, here. And as long as you and I are in agreement, we might as well see if he's, you know, agreeable to the idea, too. Right?"

He's more than agreeable, despite pleas from the other patrons for him to stay, and Yunho can't be sure what surprises him more: that Xiah's OK with the idea of a threesome after such a short acquaintance, or that he's had the two of them figured out all along. Because when they arrive back at their room, it feels to Yunho like it's he and Jaejoong who have fallen into the young man's schemes, not the other way around.

Jaejoong must be able to sense his unease—they're both strangers to this, have only talked jokingly about it in the past—but he also knows Yunho wants this just as much as he does, even if he won't say it so explicitly. So Yunho finds the SLR pushed into his hands as the door closes behind them, while Jaejoong takes the reins, and takes Xiah by the collar.

He kisses Xiah slow, tilting his head to better lock their lips together—and to better watch Yunho's reaction out of the corner of his vision. A knowing smirk pulls at the corner of Jaejoong's mouth for the split second their eyes meet, and then his tongue slides past Xiah's gasp, his hands to Xiah's ass. He pulls Xiah flush against him, making him echo Jaejoong's moan and start tugging at the back of Jaejoong's shirt.

Maybe it's the Catholic in him that's made him this masochistic, but Yunho is content for the moment to stand back and take it in, to relish the constriction of his growing arousal as the other two stumble to the bed, kicking off their clothes like a couple of school kids eager to be out of their Sunday best. Jaejoong must have entrusted him with the camera for a reason; the steady click of the shutter under Yunho's hands only seems to embolden him.

He moves to take control. But Xiah has other ideas, pinning Jaejoong down with an air of command he hasn't shown before, happy until now to play the follower. Nor is Jaejoong about to protest. His eyes fall shut in surrender as Xiah kisses him hard, urging his knees apart. His head falls back and his mouth open in a silent gasp when Xiah's lips trail down to the hollow of his throat, his nipple, his navel and its little silver piercing that clicks against Xiah's teeth when he gently pulls—

Jaejoong sucks in a breath through his teeth at the first touch of those lips to his cock, raising himself on elbows to better watch himself disappear inside the young man's mouth. Yunho isn't immune to it, either. His own erection throbs in sympathy. There's something taboo about watching his lover being fellated by someone they've only met that morning, let alone being so turned on by it, but somehow Xiah makes it seem so right, so natural, so guilt-free. As though he's been with them all this time, yet as exhilarating as only a novelty can be.

Jaejoong's gaze flicks up to meet Yunho's, dark and heavy with lust as he searches for a sign that Yunho approves, that he's enjoying this half as much as Jaejoong is, and it's clear:

There was never any need for Yunho to be jealous. This is, and has been since Jaejoong suggested it in the bar, simply about them getting what they both desperately want.

Jaejoong must see what he was looking for, because he shifts under Xiah, murmuring something about returning the favor. Giving good head has long been a point of pride with him, and he settles himself between Xiah's knees like a veteran, wrapping his mouth expertly around Xiah's cock. It makes the young man knit his brows and moan as he goes down on his elbows, a breathy, keening sound that goes straight to Yunho's groin and, like everything else that Xiah is, sounds more like music than it rightly should. He sucks Jaejoong with tongue pressed along his length, with lips shaped like they were made for the job. He bobs his head at such a leisurely pace, rolls Jaejoong's balls between the crooks of his fingers, that Yunho thinks he might go mad if he were in Jaejoong's position. He can see it in the twitches of his lover's stomach and thighs, what Xiah does to him, as Jaejoong, having met his match, tries his hardest not to buck into that talented mouth.

Yunho's forgotten about the camera in his hands. It's just sheer luck he hasn't dropped it yet. Xiah pulls back to wet his lips, fixing Yunho a look that clearly says, What are you waiting for?, and he sets it aside, throwing off his shirt as he goes to join them. Jaejoong disengages himself from Xiah with a wet pop, eager hands reaching out to rid Yunho of his trousers. He can taste Xiah on Jaejoong's mouth, on his tongue, the slightly acrid taste of precum and sweat.

He allows himself to be pulled away when Xiah kisses his shoulder, his ear, and, when Yunho turns his head, his lips; and now Yunho can see for himself why Jaejoong writhed the way he did. Xiah tastes like salt, like purity, but his kisses are slow, wonderful torture.

His fingers, on the other hand, as they slide down to stroke Yunho, are assertive as hell.

When Yunho opens his eyes again and remembers to breathe, he finds Jaejoong leaning back and shooting him a very self-satisfied grin.

"I want Xiah to fuck me," he says. "Is that okay?"

It's not like he really needs to ask, though. Yunho nods and swallows hard before he can manage, "Sure."

" _Está bem?_ " Jaejoong says to Xiah, eyes widening in question, and by his smile, Xiah must be laughing at him for it on the inside.

" _Bem. Está muito bem._ "

They come together like they've done so before, and, sure or not, for a moment Yunho feels another sharp prick of jealousy. But it's Yunho Jaejoong is watching as Xiah presses into him. He seems to be reassuring them both when he urges Xiah "Keep going, keep going" with quiet grunts. Not that Xiah is anything but patient with him; and even if he weren't, Jaejoong is stubborn enough to grin and bear a little discomfort in order to have things his way.

Yunho isn't going to take the same chance with a new acquaintance. He manages to find where they packed the lube with a bit of help from Jaejoong. His directions come out clipped by Xiah's thrusts and his own groans, and it makes Yunho ache to be with them. He can't find the damn tube fast enough.

Xiah holds up on his pace at the first slicked finger, rolling into Jaejoong with small, focused circles that leave them both panting, in ways Yunho could never quite make Jaejoong pant. It leaves his throat dry. Maybe he ends up stretching Xiah a little too quickly as a result. But Xiah doesn't complain. Just knits his brow, mouth forming a silent "oh" as he pushes himself back on Yunho's cock, easing _him_ into _their_ rhythm, contracting around Yunho and filling Jaejoong to the hilt with every snap of his hips.

So it shouldn't come as any surprise that it isn't long before Jaejoong is hissing, "Fuck, I'm gonna come—"

"Just a little longer, baby."

But Jaejoong already has one hand clamped around the base of his cock, the other twisting madly in the comforter above his head. "Can't—"

His voice breaks as he spills over his hand and stomach, and it seems to take all of Yunho's self-control to pause long enough to ease Xiah out of him.

When he starts again, it's with quick, shallow thrusts and Xiah's fingertips pressing into his lower back hard enough to bruise. His head rolls back against Yunho's shoulder, eyes shut tight in rapture. He turns at the last moment, reaching up to run his fingers through Yunho's hair. And with his cries mixing with Xiah's and fist pumping the young man dry, Yunho comes deep inside him.

It's another moment before his hearing comes back and the spots clear from his eyes, and he realizes he's on his ass and shaking and Jaejoong's kissing him, Xiah sprawled panting between them.

" _Christ_ , you two were hot together," Jaejoong murmurs against his lips. "Told you it was a good idea." He sits back, picks disdainfully at the ruined comforter and chuckles. "Well, it's not like we would've been needing this anyway."

Yunho hasn't had a chance to notice until now, but the humidity level does seem to have gone up since dinner, and not all the perspiration that tickles their skin is from exertion. Still, at least for the moment, Yunho can't really be bothered to move.

He glances between the three of them, in various states of satiation, and knows he's going to have to start going to confession again after this. He isn't particularly looking forward to it.

* * *

Rain wakes them slowly the next morning. Big, fat tropical drops that tap on the windowpane of their hotel room like drumming fingernails.

Xiah just shrugs, the I told you so implied.

They order room service for breakfast, lock out the cleaning lady, and spend the better part of the day shut in.

Jaejoong snaps pictures of Xiah—who, it's quite clear, as he drifts in and out of sleep until almost eleven o'clock, is not a morning person. What he is is photogenic. He's a drunken satyr and a bound Sebastian spread out over the wrinkled linens of their bed, equal parts Christian saint and pagan sinner, one arm tucked behind his head and abdominals stretched tight under the sunlight that floods the room, when it manages to break through the clouds. But at least part of the time he only pretends to be asleep, lips widening into a grin as he peeks coquettishly up at Jaejoong.

Yunho hears his sharp intake of breath behind the camera. It reminds him of when he first met Jaejoong, thinking no one should ever be that beautiful. But here Jaejoong is, appearing to be smitten, even if it is only a superficial affair.

Jaejoong and Xiah play cards, following the rules only half the time, and Yunho finds himself looking up from his book at them and their bursts of laughter more than he actually reads. Xiah fills the awkward silences with song and Jaejoong lights a joint. And as they pass it around, he and Yunho reminisce about their days at university together, finding themselves ribbing on friends and acquaintances they hadn't thought about in months, the remember-when's and remember-so-and-so's coming almost as fast as the memories can pop into their heads. Xiah hasn't met a single one of these people—they might be talking too fast for him to understand half of all they're saying—but he laughs along at the good parts, his throaty, completely unassuming laugh that Yunho can't seem to get enough of.

Jaejoong's sidelong glance seems to say the same thing.

They find a soccer game in progress on TV. They don't recognize either of the teams, or understand the speed-talking announcers, but pick their sides anyway and root for them like long-time fans.

By the start of the second half, Jaejoong has his tongue down Xiah's throat and hands up his shirt, and is barely keeping the young man's attention from the TV screen.

Full-time, and they've got Yunho right where they want them, Xiah so right on target with each snap of his hips, Jaejoong, knowing just how he feels, making sure he holds out as long as possible. One of their teams has won, but neither Yunho nor Jaejoong knows which one, and none of them really cares.

* * *

When he comes out of the shower, Xiah is sprawled out on his stomach, flipping channels.

Jaejoong he finds on the balcony, slouched in one of the chaise longues, camera between his knees in one hand as he sifts through the pictures they took yesterday, lit cigarette in the other slowly burning its way down to the filter. He told Yunho he quit, but, though he knows he should stand his ground, Yunho finds he doesn't really care about the cigarettes.

It's the melancholy that Jaejoong seems to have brought with him, that somehow sneaked into his suitcase when he was supposed to have left it at home, locked in the apartment. It wasn't there at Corcovado, it didn't get between him and Xiah, but now it shows up out of the blue and Yunho has every right to ask what's on his mind.

Jaejoong starts at the sound of the door sliding open like he's been caught red-handed at something more terrible than smoking. He stubs the cigarette out on the railing. Exhales automatically, even though there's nothing in his lungs.

"You okay?" Yunho asks him. He just feels like he needs to.

"Yeah. Of course. I feel like I should be the one asking you that."

"I'll walk. Eventually. Enjoying the view?"

"I just needed somewhere to think."

"To think."

Yunho glances down to his lap. The camera's preview screen is angled just enough that he can make out the picture on it: Xiah in profile from the top of Corcovado, squinting under the noonday sun as he stares out over the city and the bay beyond.

"About how glad I am that I decided to come here with you," Jaejoong says with that picture staring up at him. "It's made me realize—"

It seems to take a lot of will power, but Jaejoong forces himself to meet Yunho's eyes. And when he does, it's with an awkward smile that he tries to suppress but just comes out lopsided because of it.

"It's made me realize just how serious I am about this. About us."

Yunho doesn't know whether to sigh in relief or laugh. He ends up doing both. He really thought it was going to be something a lot worse. "That's good news."

In fact, it's what he's been longing to hear for the better part of the last two years.

So shouldn't he be happier to hear it than he actually is?

"I know I haven't been the most decisive person in the world," Jaejoong goes on. "And for that, I owe you a thousand apologies. I guess all this time I must have just been afraid."

"Afraid of what?" But Yunho's not sure he wants an answer to that.

"I don't know. Afraid that I would hold you back, I guess. Keep you from doing the things you want to do."

This time, Yunho does laugh.

"Jae, that has to be the most ridiculous thing you've ever said."

"Really?" Another lopsided grin, this time shared between them. "'Cause I think we can both agree I've said some pretty strange things in the time you've known me."

Yunho lowers himself gingerly to the edge of the chaise beside Jaejoong's legs.

"I've been giving it a lot of thought lately," Jaejoong goes on in the meantime. "Was thinking about it on the flight here, in fact. And . . . Well. I think we should move in together."

 _Spoke too soon._ Yunho lets out a long-suffering sigh, puts a hand on Jaejoong's shoulder, and gives him a little shake. "You've been living with me for the past five months, _Boojae_."

Jaejoong flushes at the nickname. "Yeah. And?"

" _And_ on and off for a year before that?"

"Okay, okay, point taken. But what I'm _trying_ to say is," he sobers, "I want it to be for real from now on. Just you and me, and no excuses. You've always told me I'm all you ever need, and it's about damn time I returned the favor. Don't you think?"

Jaejoong pushes a few buttons with his thumb, and the photo of Xiah disappears from the camera's memory.

That's when Yunho understands. That all this time out here he's been in delete mode. The pictures of Xiah from their hotel room bed, stretched out and tangled up in the linen like a Classical nude, or of Xiah and Jaejoong tangled in each other's limbs, and the candid shots from Corcovado, the contemplative, Christ-like poses—Jaejoong is deleting them all, one by one, so that the only memory those moments will be left in when they leave Rio de Janeiro is where they should have been all along.

What gives him the right to decide that for both of them? Yunho thinks.

And then he wonders, shocked at himself, where that came from.

He fails to notice Jaejoong is leaning in until he takes Yunho's chin between his fingers, and places a gentle kiss on his mouth.

"I'm sick of room service. What about you?" he says, standing up and stretching, leaving the camera in Yunho's hands now that it's been sterilized. "Think I'm gonna run over to that deli we saw a couple blocks down, see if I can't get us some real food. Something we can celebrate over properly."

"What are we celebrating?" Yunho asks.

Jaejoong smiles at him like that should be obvious. "Haven't you been listening? You should probably stay here, though. One of us should be here when Xiah gets out so he doesn't think we've abandoned him and try to take something."

"He's an adult. What about you? You sure you can manage by yourself?"

Yunho was talking about the load he'd have to carry back, or the possibility of being mugged, but Jaejoong, thinking he's poking fun, just laughs. "I know my Portuguese hasn't been that good, thank you very much, but I've got the buying food chapter down pat. Trust me."

He tugs on an overshirt, takes some bills from his wallet and folds them into his pocket along with his cell phone and room key, picking up his sunglasses last of all from where they got tossed onto the nearest table in last night's haste. Xiah is in the shower; they can just hear him humming over the rush of the water through the bathroom wall—and are a little amazed that he imbues even that with vibrato. "Get enough for three," Yunho reminds him when Jaejoong rolls his eyes playfully in their new friend's direction. "We do owe him, in a way. And I don't just mean for . . . you know. Last night."

"Of course. Back in two shakes," Jaejoong says, and Yunho sighs but smiles at his awful sense of humor.

One last kiss, one that starts off simple enough but threatens to turn into something longer and messier against the back of the door if they don't nip it in the bud, and Jaejoong is gone.

Yunho picks up Greene from where he last left him, but after several minutes he realizes he's just been reading the same page over and over again, and he still doesn't know what it's about. Jaejoong's words to him keep cycling through his thoughts, and it doesn't seem to matter how hard he tries to focus on the printed ones in front of him. They won't leave him alone. It's what Jaejoong said about his seriousness—the answer to Yunho's unspoken prayers, after twenty-odd long months, and two much too short years—and he can't understand why it should feel like the timing is all wrong.

They're in Rio de Janeiro, surrounded by palm trees and warm, tropical air, in a hotel they'd been saving up for with a top-floor lounge that looks out on Corcovado. The timing couldn't be any better.

Xiah finally emerges from the bathroom in a cloud of steam. While he towels his hair dry with one hand, his shirt hangs open on his shoulders, as if inviting Yunho to come push it back off.

Does he know he has that effect?

Because his blink at Yunho seems innocent enough. "Where's Jaejoong?" He looks around the room, craning his head toward the balcony, even glancing back into the bathroom he just came out of as if Jaejoong could have slipped by without his noticing.

It's almost comical, but Yunho finds he isn't in the mood to appreciate it.

"He stepped out to get us something to eat. He should be back in a few minutes."

"Oh. In that case, would you tell him I said thanks for everything?"

"Wait. Are you leaving?"

Greene gets tossed aside, forgotten, as Yunho shoots from his seat. Xiah didn't come to them with much on his person to begin with. It won't take long before he's decent and ready to disappear forever. Yunho almost puts himself between the young man and the door, but the realization that that would make him seem too desperate makes him settle for leaning against the wall nearby instead.

He tries to sound unaffected. "Do you have to go right this minute? Jaejoong was really hoping you'd stay." Which is a lie, Yunho thinks with some remorse. He's the one who wants that. "He wouldn't forgive me if I let you run off before he can say good-bye."

Xiah looks up from his shoes to meet Yunho's eyes.

"You've done a lot for us."

"You mean like translating?"

Yunho opens his mouth to correct him, but it isn't necessary and he quickly shuts it again. He and Jaejoong weren't exactly discrete on the balcony. Even if Xiah hadn't heard them, he would have understood their body language—their energy—as easily as he had before.

Just as he seems to read Yunho's mind like an open book. He smiles. "You two have more than repaid me. Believe me. You don't owe me anything. I think it's about time I got out of your way now."

"Who ever said you were in the way?"

Xiah reaches for the door handle, and Yunho, without thinking, reaches for his arm. Where this impulsive desperation came from, he doesn't know, because it's not like him at all.

Xiah's shocked stare seems to say the same thing. "For god's sake, Yunho," he hisses, pulling himself free, and it's the first time he's had a stern word for either of them, "don't you get it? Don't do something you'll regret!"

He slips out while Yunho is too stunned by his own actions to stop him. Yunho doesn't know how much time passes after that, but he's still there, rooted to the spot, when he hears Jaejoong's key card in the slot.

His face lights up when he sees Yunho standing there.

"What are you doing waiting by the door like a little puppy?" Setting a couple of plastic bags on the nearest table, he glances around the otherwise empty room. "Xiah still in the shower?"

Yunho doesn't answer.

He doesn't think, just pulls Jaejoong into his arms and holds him there tight. What ever got into him that he could have honestly thought, if only for a passing moment, that what he had right here wasn't enough, that it wasn't everything he ever wanted? Already he feels as though he's emerging out from under the fog of some drug, and he knows it isn't an effect of the pot or the beers he had last night. And that's enough to startle him.

"Hey, what brought this on? I didn't think I was gone _that_ long," Jaejoong says with an awkward laugh as he rubs Yunho's back in return. And Yunho wishes he could keep him there just a little longer, if only so Jaejoong won't see the unease he's sure must be showing on his face.

"There's no reason," he says as he lets go, covering with a smile. "Let's eat."


End file.
